


Weighing Options

by OverWroughtThought



Category: Acquisitions Inc., Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), The "C" Team
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-04
Updated: 2018-07-04
Packaged: 2019-06-05 06:24:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15164597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverWroughtThought/pseuds/OverWroughtThought
Summary: Ligotti must be certain Father understands the necessary features when he designs a new body for his familiar. Therefore the Little Mouth makes an assessment of the show floor examples. Don't worry, they're asleep, none of them will know.





	Weighing Options

The Little Mouth waited until Father went still to leave the room.   


The tentacle slithered up into rafters, through the narrow spaces that none except the mice knew of.  Even those soft, furry creatures did not follow these paths anymore, not since the Little Mouth began using them too.     


There was much Father did not know, but he was right about some things.  His body did not suit the Little Mouth's purpose as well as first assumed.  While his mouth could form sounds with greater ease, the design contained numerous flaws.  Blunt teeth in only a single row -- a single row! -- with a soft and fragile head prone to needless sharp sensations upon impact with hard objects.   


The number of eyes had improved as of late, but even so, Father could use a few more, with better distribution.  The Little Mouth did not understand why Father grew them all on one concentrated plane, facing one direction. A foolish waste of resources.  When creating a new body for the Little Mouth, hopefully such mistakes would not be repeated.  He must be clear with what he requested of Father. Hence tonight's excursion.

The dagger held by his tail whispered sleepily as he moved to the room of the smallest giant with silver hair. Perhaps the blade remembered its former master. The Little Mouth gave the weapon a shake, lest it forget who ruled it now.   


Not daring to approach by way of the floor, the Little Mouth peered down where the small giant slumbered in a pool of moonlight.  Though unassuming, this one slept lightest and moved swiftest. Perhaps the new body should emulate this form. Small creatures could gain access to places often overlooked.   


He anchored the dagger in the wooden beam and slowly lowered his head closer.    


This giant wore change in the flesh, a map of past experiences etched in soft matter, creased and folded.  The Little Mouth could alter his shape, but his forms were static in nature, trading one ageless configuration for another.  What did time feel like, accrued in the skin? Did it have a weight? A texture? A temperature?

He drew nearer, almost close enough to nip.

The staff, leaned up against the bed, hummed.  Shadows about the head of silver hair shivered and twitched.  One of only two eyes set in fragile skin slitted open.

An orb of void and starlight regarded him coldly.  The vibration of the staff nearby intensified.

Soundlessly, the Little Mouth withdrew back into the rafters.  The humming quieted. The eye closed, hiding the stars once more.  The smallest giant did not stir.

Time to go.

The second giant he planned to observe tonight changed forms as easily as the Little Mouth did.  Some shapes were large, some small, most with a very respectable number of teeth and some with even a reasonable number of eyes.  This solved a great deal of problems, although the Little Mouth was unsure of the mechanism by which these shifts were achieved.  Perhaps with further study, he could teach the secret to Father, and together they could include this feature in his new design.

He entered the room by way of a hole halfway down the wall, hidden behind the head of the bed, old tooth marks a testament to the industriousness of rodents.  He wedged himself between the headboard and the wall, shoving his body upward, careful not to scrape horns or dagger against the wood. This giant possessed excellent hearing, even in her softest, weakest form.   


Carefully, he peered over the edge.

A squawk of dismay.  He took in the entirety of the room with a single look -- see, Father, why one must have eyes on all the planes? -- and found it empty.  Flopping onto the floor, he searched for where the shifting giant might have gone. Discolored curtains fluttered, the motion drawing his attention to the open window.

"Ha-woooo," he heard from the roof.  Then a wet sound, and again, a little quieter, "Ha-woooooo." A quavering lilt threaded through the muted howl.   


His current form could not sigh or roll eyes, so the Little Mouth only chirped with annoyance. _This_ again. If recent pattern served as any indication, the shifting giant would be on the roof for much of the night.  Possibly leaking water and mucus from the face, a feature the Little Mouth was not interested in observing or incorporating.

It might be nice to roll his eyes, though.  He would be sure to tell Father. 

Moving on.

Fortunately, the location of the final giant was a known quantity.  The vast, scaled creature reliably went still for at least eight hours when night fell. Unlike Father, “still” did not mean “quiet”.  The Little Mouth doubted the loud giant capable of quiet for eight hours. Or eight seconds, for that matter.

He felt a rhythmic rumble in the floorboards as he crossed the common room and approached the door, reaching his tail up to turn the knob and shoving his way in, unconcerned about noise.  His presence would go unnoticed, as it had many times before in the loud giant's presence.

Such teeth this being possessed.  Such teeth! The Little Mouth coiled upon the broad chest, rising and falling, to peer inside the long, armored snout.  Of all the giants, the loud one understood the importance of a mouth. Every morning and evening, and sometimes after mid-day meals, the giant performed ritual ablutions to shine and scent these fine white rows, employing a ceremonial object called a Purr See Veil.  A strange form of worship, but The Little Mouth approved.

The loud giant’s mouth lay open and cavernous like an offering.  The Little Mouth raised up, carefully extending his head into the gaping maw.  Warm and humid breath blasted against his flesh, thunderous noise setting off ripples in crystalline skin.  Home. It felt like home.

Soon.   _ Soon. _

But not tonight.

The Little Mouth withdrew and returned to Father’s room, his passage unnoticed.  He curled upon the desk between scattered books and tacky pools of half-dried ink, weighing his options.

So much to be done.  His new body needed to be ready for all of it.


End file.
